Steve's Other Room

I couldn't explain it, but suddenly I was standing in an identical room looking back at Steve through a swirling mist. Not only that, but I was stone sober.

"Alice," he said, his voice running out and down like someone was messing with the playback speed. "Co...me .... Ba...ck." And then he was gone

What happened or why it happened I couldn't say. I mean Steve disappearing like that made no sense. Thinking maybe it was a trick I started in looking around. I mean how often does a girl get a chance to a serious look at guy's room.

The first thing I noticed was the pile of dirty clothes in the corner. I found it hard to believe someone like Steve would fling his shorts across the room, letting them fall wherever. Add in the half eaten pizza crusts that had missed his waste bucket and well I was developing a whole image of this man. This prim and proper was just another guy. Can you say, OINK!?

Opening the top drawer of his bureau I found his journal, a couple Play Boy mags, a bag of weed and a hash pipe. My pig was a druggy and a voyeur to boot, fancy that.
The other drawers contained the usual socks, sweaters and ratty boxer shorts.
Under the bed were a lot of dust bunnies skittering about. His closet held the usual assortment of clothes and a couple boxes of sports gear.

Opening his computer I got a real shock, all the pictures, icons and print were mirror reversed. I was dumbfounded. Was this Steve’s idea of computer security? It made no sense.

Stepping before the mirror again I cocked my head to right and grinned. The image staring back was me, not the reversed me, but me. It was clear something extraordinary had happened here.

My hand reached out to touch the mirrored surface and ...